


Granny's Little Helper

by Ely_Baby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Children, Christmas, Community: mini_fest, Cooking, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3141197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely_Baby/pseuds/Ely_Baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Christmas Eve, Molly is on a mince pie baking spree, this year though she has a very special little helper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Granny's Little Helper

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://mini-fest.livejournal.com/profile)[mini_fest](http://mini-fest.livejournal.com), for the prompt: _Molly making Christmas dinner with one of the grandkids, (possibly Lily) maybe making biscuits and the pudding. It turns into an unmitigated disaster. (Ingredients everywhere, flour in their hair, burnt pudding or roast turkey.)_
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://mini-fest.livejournal.com/120299.html).
> 
> Beta-read by [QueenBtchoftheUniverse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBtchoftheUniverse).
> 
> The recipe belongs to The Simmering Poet.

***

Molly Weasley was ready.

She had  _Enchantment in Baking_  open on page 432.

She had the kitchen table, the counter and most of the shelves covered with ingredients.

And she had her little helper – who was looking supremely cute in her flowery apron that had caused Granddad Arthur to grab his camera and take tons of pictures of her – ready to help. Or at least to not make a mess. Hopefully.

“So, Lily, you remember what Mummy said, don’t you?”

Her five-year-old granddaughter gave her a toothless smile and nodded solemnly. “Don’t touch the oven, don’t touch the knives, don’t spill the milk, don’t break the eggs, don’t eat the sugar or the mincemeat, don’t play with the butter, and don’t sneeze on the flour because it goes everywhere.”

Molly beamed at her. She was so intelligent and she looked absolutely adorable as she recounted all of Ginny’s recommendations. “Yes, my sweet, sweet darling. You just do what Granny tells you, and we’re going to have all 360 mince pies ready before dinner.”

She took the cooking book into her hands and had a look at the recipe.

*

_Sieve the flour into a bowl with a pinch of salt_

_Rub in the butter - with fingertips only - for the best result._

_When it's soft and crumbly sprinkle the sugar over it_

_Now the pastry is halfway done, let’s get on with it._

_In a glass mix the lemon juice and water with the egg yolk,_

_Add this into the bowl in one single stroke_.

*

“Why 360, Granny?” asked Lily as she pushed a chair back from the table and climbed on it. She knelt and stared as her grandmother started to measure 240 oz of flour on an old, brass scale.

“Well, dear,” she replied, “there are Twelve Days of Christmas, and there’s you and Al and Jamie, and then there’s Mummy and Daddy, and all your cousins and your aunts. And then there’s Granny and Grandpa and Teddy and Grandma Andromeda, and Auntie Luna, Uncle Rolf and Grandpa Xenophilius, right?”

Lily narrowed her eyes, probably trying to decide if someone was missing. And apparently yes, someone was missing. “But Granny that’s not everybody.”

“No?” asked Molly, looking at her, who in Merlin’s name had she forgotten? “Who’s missing, dear?”

“Father Christmas, Granny!” replied Lily almost scandalised. “You always say that mince pies are his favourites. What if when he comes we don’t have any for him? Do you think he’ll get all angry like Uncle Ron when someone beats him at Wizard’s Chess, and he will scream things and will not give me my presents?”

Molly looked at her amusedly. “You’re right, Lily dear, I completely forgot about Father Christmas. How many—”

A little, freckled hand pushed quickly on Molly’s mouth. “Shh, Granny!” exclaimed Lily. “Father Christmas knows everything, if he hears you saying that you forgot about him, he’s not going to bring you a present!”

Molly kissed the little palm and Lily giggled. “Granny, that tickles!” She moved the hand away and grinned.

“You’re right,” said Molly, “I think we should make 361 mince pies.”

Lily stared at her. “But that’s only…” She counted on her fingers but the calculation was too difficult for her.

“One,” supplied Molly.

“Only one! But we need to give him at least a hundred of them! Don’t you know that he goes all the way around the world in one night, Granny?” she asked her sternly, placing her little hands on the table to look into the gigantic bowl of flour. “And Daddy says that the world is big. Bigger than everything else.”

“Yes, Lily, but a hundred are too many, dear… he wouldn’t know where to put them!”

“He would eat them, Granny,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“And then he’d have a stomach-ache, just like Hugo last Easter, remember? And then he would have to go back home to lie down and Christmas would be ruined for all the children whom he hadn’t visited yet,” she pointed out.

Lily seemed to take her words very seriously, because she looked rather abashed. “Then… maybe… only…”

“Five?” supplied Molly.

“Yes, five!” she grinned. “Five is the most perfect-est number, Granny, because I’m five! Like Hugo!”

“Then five it shall be,” she grinned back at her. “We just need to add a spoonful of flour inside the bowl.” She turned to get one from the drawer, but jerked her head back towards the table as Lily exclaimed, “I’ll do it, Granny!”

“No! No! Lily!” But it was too late, she had already grabbed the gigantic, and luckily almost completely empty, sack of flour and was shaking it over the bowl. The flour stuck to the bottom of the sack detached all at once and the bowl, Lily and the table were enveloped in a white mushroom cloud.

“Lily!” Molly flapped her hands in front of her face to send the flour away as she made her way to her granddaughter. Lily had let the sack fall to the floor, her hair, her face, her shoulders and her little apron were all white. She was scrunching up her eyes and opening them and she was coughing flour out of her mouth and nose.

“Lily,” she sighed, Summoning a tea towel from the nail and brushing her face. “Oh, my little snowman, are you okay?”

Lily coughed a bit more, but nodded. “I’m sorry, Granny,” she whispered, “but I didn’t sneeze, you see?”

“I see, I see,” she reassured her with a smile, brushing away the flour from her hair, “but next time you wait for me to get a spoon, okay?”

She nodded meekly.

“Just a little mishap, nothing irreversible,” she continued as she went to collect the butter.

“Aren’t you going to swish swash your wand to clean?”

“Maybe when we finish everything, Lily,” smiled Molly. “Now, we need to use our hands to mix the flour with the butter and then we add the sugar.” She looked at Lily and raised her eyebrows, faking a stern expression. “Have you washed your hands, Lily?”

She nodded solemnly. “I promise, Granny.”

“Good,” she told her with a smile, “then why don’t you mix the two ingredients while I weigh the sugar?”

She nodded again, a smile spreading her little lips impossibly wide as she was finally given an important task. She stretched her hands to grab the bowl and dragged it all the way to where she was still kneeling on the chair.

“Don’t put it too close to the edge—put it here, yes, here’s perfect, Lily.” She pushed it towards the centre of the table a little and added the softened butter to the flour. “You have to use your fingertips to rub it in well, Lily, like this, see how I do it?”

“No, Granny!” complained Lily. “I’ll do it!”

Molly withdrew her hands from the bowl. “Yes, but gently, Lily, and you keep going until it’s all nice and soft.”

She nodded eagerly, pushed back her sleeves and dipped her little hands into the mix. She started working it with her brow furrowed in concentration. “Like this, Granny?”

“That’s perfect, darling,” she reassured her. “And I’ll weigh the sugar while you work.”

Lily nodded in reply, her skinny arms disappearing to her elbows into the bowl every time she pushed her fingers deep into the butter.

Molly smiled satisfied at how hard her granddaughter was working and seemed to enjoy it, and set herself to weigh 30 oz of sugar on her old scale. They chatted a bit more as she took her time with the sugar to allow Lily to mix the ingredients well. Her granddaughter proposed to sing a song while they worked, but instead of  _God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs_  or  _Ring the Hogwarts Bell_ , she started humming the dirty version of  _99 Bottles of Wiggenweld Potion_ , and when Molly asked her in a scandalised tone who taught her that, she was not surprised in the least to hear that Uncle Charlie and Uncle Ron did it.

“Does your mummy know that you know that song, Lily?” asked Molly as she sprinkled the sugar all over the mix in the bowl and all over Lily’s hands.

She shook her head, flour flying everywhere from her hair. “Oh no,” she replied, her voice low and conspiratorial, “Uncle Charlie said that Mummy is going to knee him in his Bludgers if she was to know.” She stopped kneading the ingredients and looked at her grandmother with her forehead creased. “But Uncle Charlie doesn’t have Bludgers, Granny, because he always asks Daddy for his Quidditch set of balls when we play in the summer.”

Molly smiled at her and patted her head. “He surely won’t have Bludgers after I’ve talked to him, Lily.” She peered into the bowl and pushed a finger into the mix to sample the consistency. “I think it’s good, Lily, you’re doing a very good job, my darling. Are you tired? Shall I do it for a bit?”

She shook her head and started to knead the mix with renewed force. “I’ll do it.”

“Then I’ll mix the wet ingredients,” she told her. “You know you’re helping Granny very much, Lily? You’re such a good little girl.”

Lily beamed at the compliments and then grinned her gap-toothed smile once more.

Molly mixed the lemon juice, the water and egg yolks, and then poured them into the bowl. Lily giggled at the slimy feeling of the ingredients on her hands, and started to play with the yolks that navigated over the mix.

*

_Gently mush this together into a soft ball of dough._

_Add a little more water if needed, just a touch though_

_You don’t want it too wet or you’ll be adding more flour,_

_Wrap in Clingfilm and pop in fridge to rest for half an hour._

*

“It’s going to become really sticky now, Lily,” she told her, “maybe Granny shall do it?”

“No, no, I’ll do it, Granny!” she replied, before looking up at her grandmother a bit perplexed. “My hands aren’t going to get stuck in here, are they?”

“Absolutely not, darling,” she reassured her. “When you think you’ve finished, I’ll see if we need some more water or some more flour and then we’ll put it in the fridge to rest.”

“Is it going to sleep?” Lily’s grin was wondrous, as if she was ecstatic that that dough would need rest like a person.

“Oh, yes,” giggled Molly, “we cover it—”

“With a little blanket? Like the one I use for Maggie?”

“Almost,” she replied. Not quite the fluffy blanket Lily used for her doll. “We’ll cover it with a special blanket, it’s called cling film, and then the dough can rest a bit, while we do other things.”

“Like what?”

“Like taste the mincemeat and light the oven, dear.”

Lily nodded. “I think it’s ready, Granny,” she told her, still kneading it. “It’s all ready. It’s all smooth and slimy and coldish…” She pulled her hands from the bowl and almost fell back against the chair. “Oh, it’s really strong, Granny!”

“Is it, Lily?” she grinned. “Let’s see if it’s also ready to be put to rest.” She pushed her hands inside and found a bit of yolk on the bottom of the bowl and a lump of sugar on the side. Nothing that her expert hands couldn’t smooth together without effort.

It was pretty good indeed. Not too wet, not too dry. Pretty smooth too.

“It’s good, Granny,” hummed Lily, her mouth full, “it’s sweet.”

Molly looked up at her and smiled. “Is it, dear? Don’t tell Mummy that we ate the raw dough, or she’ll take you to St Mungo’s for a check up.” Ginny could be rather apprehensive at times. Raw dough had never hurt anybody at all, and Ginny herself used to lick clean all the bowls when Molly made some cake.

Lily shook her head, her brown eyes shining with mischief. “It’s a secret,” she chuckled softly. “Our secret, Granny.” She looked at the fingers that she had licked clean and started on the other hand. “Oh, Granny!” she called suddenly.

“Yes, my darling?”

“I lost my ring,” she whined.

Molly looked at her as she fashioned the dough into a big ball that roughly resembled a Quaffle. “Oh dear, where did you last put it?”

“I didn’t put it anywhere, Granny,” she replied matter-of-factly, “I always have it on my finger. It’s the ring that Uncle George gave to me! And I lost it!”

“Oh, there, there, Lily,” coaxed Molly, “have you looked into your pocket?”

She pouted and shook her head before checking her pockets with her still half-dirty hands. “It’s not there, Granny,” she sobbed. “I lost it!”

Molly cleaned her hands in her apron. “Are you sure, darling? Maybe you left it at home today.”

She shook her head once more, big fat tears starting to fill her eyes.

“Oh, no, no, no, Lily, no, my dear.” She hurried to her, and enveloped her little body in her arms. “Do you want Granny to  _Accio_  it? Maybe it’s here somewhere, do you want that?”

She nodded and pouted a bit more.

“There, there, let’s see if it’s anywhere in Granny’s house.” She waved her wand and Summoned the ring.

At first nothing happened, and Molly could actually hear Lily hold her breath as she waited for the ring to fly into her little hand from Merlin knew where.

Seconds passed and finally Molly sighed, “Lily, I think…” but her words trailed away almost instantaneously as the bowl started to tremble on the table. Molly looked at it with her eyes wide. Oh! Of course! She didn’t tell her to take off her ring, of course she would dive her hands into that sticky dough with the band around her finger. Oh Merlin! Good thing Lily noticed and she Summoned it otherwise they would have cooked it into a mince pie!

Suddenly, the ball of dough shot up from the bowl, too thick and sticky to let the ring get out. “Aaaah!” cried Lily excitedly. “Grab it, Granny! Grab it! It’s trying to escape!”

“Merlin!” breathed Molly, she let her granddaughter go and opened her hands to catch the dough, which landed with a wet plop into her palms. Once secured in her fingers, the ring finally managed to break free and hit Molly right in the forehead. “Ouch!”

“You found it, Granny!” exclaimed Lily happily.

Molly took a deep breath as Lily climbed down from the chair and went to pick up the ring. Then she stared at her granddaughter as she pushed the same chair towards the sink and climbed up once more. She turned on the water and washed the ring as she hummed  _99 Bottles of Wiggenweld Potion_.

Molly shook her head and nonetheless a smile stretched her lips as she put the dough back into the bowl. She cut a long piece of cling film from the roll and covered the pastry with it. Then she levitated it into the fridge and closed it with a little chuckle.

*

_Grease your bun tray and light the oven to Gas mark five_

_Taste your mincemeat to see if it needs bringing alive;_

_Cheap ones can be enhanced by adding a little brandy,_

_Or whiskey, or sherry, whatever is handy._

*

“What do we do now, Granny?” asked Lily eagerly as she pushed the chair back into position and climbed up once more with a grin plastered on her face and her ring secured on her finger.

Molly smiled. “Granny is going to light the oven,” she told her, “and then we need to grease the trays. We have 365 mince pies to make, but we only have three trays with twelve buns each, that means that we need to bake the mince pies ten times.”

“Ooooh. That’s a lot, Granny.”

Molly nodded solemnly. “A lot,” she agreed, “we better get going.”

“We better,” replied Lily in a world-weary tone of voice. “But if the dough is resting we can’t wake it up, can we, Granny?”

Molly smiled at her. “No, but I can grease the trays while you taste the mincemeat and tell me if it needs a bit of Firewhiskey, okay?”

“Ah, but Mummy said that I can’t eat the mincemeat,” she reminded her miserably.

“But you’re not going to eat it, Lily, just have a little taste from a little teaspoon,” she explained calmly, “we need to know if it’s tasty enough, otherwise Father Christmas is not going to like the mince pies.”

“And he’s not going to leave me presents?” Her brown eyes were huge as she stared at her grandmother frantically.

“I’m sure he’ll give you presents even if they don’t taste too nice,” she reassured her as she placed a clean bowl in front of Lily and started to fill it with the content of twelve jars of mincemeat. “But they are going to taste wonderful, our pies, Lily.”

“The best mince pies we’ve ever made, Granny?”

“The best ones!” She smiled as Lily beamed at her. “Now, you use the teaspoon to try the mincemeat, Lily, and if it’s not tasty enough you put a bit of Firewhiskey in with the tablespoon and mix it with the wooden spoon.” She uncorked a bottle of Firewhiskey, enchanted it to be light enough for Lily to pick it up, and placed it there. “Just a tinsy bit and then you try it again, okay?”

“Yes, Granny.”

“And I’ll grease the bun tray.” Of course greasing the tray would have been a much more suitable job for a five-year-old than being in charge of deciding if the mincemeat was tasty enough, but Granny knew how much Lily loved the fruity filling, and surely that was a good enough excuse to let her have a bit without Ginny scolding them both at the end of the day.

“Okay,” she replied as she dunked the teaspoon and scooped up a generous amount of mincemeat. She brought it to her mouth, smearing it on her lips and a bit on her chin as well.

“Is it good?” asked Molly as Lily furrowed her brow and looked deep in concentration to try to determine if it was tasty enough for Father Christmas. She looked a bit like Fleur when she tried Molly’s Bouillabaisse and was trying to understand what was wrong with it.

“We need a bit of Firewhiskey,” she finally stated all serious.

“Well, then,” said Molly, taking some butter and starting to grease the trays in front of her. “You go ahead and add a bit of Firewhiskey to it, dear.”

She nodded solemnly and grabbed the bottle, before pouring a bit of it into the spoon and then the bowl.

“Perfect, Lily, now you mix it and you try it again.”

She did as Granny told her, very diligently. She scrunched her eyes up a little and then licked her lips. “We need a bit more, Granny.”

“Sure, Lily, go ahead,” she replied distractedly as she started greasing the second tray. Only now she remembered that she hadn’t set up a timer for the dough, it was surely almost already a half an hour that it was in the fridge. She didn’t want it to—

“A bit more, Granny.”

“Yes, yes, darling.”

—didn’t want it to become too cold, otherwise it would have been a pain to roll out. Oh yes, she still remembered that time she was making a pie with Ginny and they started talking about Harry and oh! They just completely forgot about it. And then they had to enchant the roll to do all the work and even with the spell, they just couldn’t—

“A bit more,” slurred Lily, her words followed by a little hiccup.

“Of course, of course,” replied Molly as she now worked frenetically to finish the last tray. “Oh there we are,” she finally exclaimed. She moved the trays to the counter and went to retrieve the dough. She touched it a little and was relieved to find it not too hard already.

But she was distracted in her musings by a soft  _thump thump_  coming from behind her. She furrowed her brow and turned to look at Lily. Her button nose was all red and her eyes all shiny and she was holding the bottle of Firewhiskey upside down while she hit the bottom to make the last drops fall into the mincemeat.

“Lily! What are you doing?” she gasped out.

Lily looked at her and grinned before another little hiccup made her shrug her shoulders. “It needs more,” she slurred, raising a finger in front of her.

“Oh! Lily!” She hurried to her and grabbed the empty bottle from her hands. “This was full! Oh my!” The smell coming from the mincemeat almost made Molly’s eyes sting.

“More,” Lily stated, her eyes were all shiny and her voice all slurred, just like Charlie used to speak those nights when he came home from the pub where he had met his friends.

“No, no more!” exclaimed Molly. “Oh my! If your mummy knows that I got you all… all tipsy, oh my!”

“More, Granny,” she repeated. She took the wooden spoon and tried to scoop up the mincemeat that was now almost floating in the Firewhiskey, Molly had to wrestle it out of her little hand before she could spoon it into her mouth.

“No, no, no,” she chanted. “That’s more than enough. Oh my! We’re going to make alcoholic mince pies and have to hand them out to the children. Oh, Percy will give me a roasting before we can smuggle them to Molly and Lucy!”

Lily started to giggle. “Like a turkey,” she slurred, “he’s going to roast you like a turkey, Granny.”

Molly sighed and grabbed the bowl before Lily could dunk in her little fingers to scoop up some more mincemeat. “I said enough, Lily,” she told her as she placed the bowl on the highest shelf she herself could reach. She turned just in time to see Lily licking the rim of the bottle.

Lily caught her eyes and giggled drunkenly before putting down the bottle and licking her lips. She had mincemeat all over her face, almost as if she had pushed it in the bowl to eat the fruity stuffing directly from it. Molly wondered if she had done that while she wasn’t looking.

She pinched the bridge of her nose.  _It’s going to get cooked, everything is fine, it’s going to get cooked, the alcohol will evaporate and whatever she did in it… nobody will notice…_

“Whatcha doin’, Granny?”

She looked at her and tried to smile reassuringly. “Thinking that these will be the best mince pies ever,” she replied as sweetly as she could.

*

_Take the pastry and flour your work surface and rolling pin_

_Roll out your pastry until it’s really quite thin._

_About the thickness of a safety match is nice_

_If it sticks to the surface, scrape it up with a fish slice._

_Cut 12 rings with a pastry cutter slightly larger than_

_the diameter of the openings in your bun pan._

*

“What do I do now, Granny?” she asked, leaning on her elbows and balancing herself between the chair and the table. “Can I taste something else?” she slurred eagerly.

“No, Lily, I think you tasted enough for today,” she replied. “Now you sit there and talk to Granny as Granny rolls out the pastry, okay?”

She took a deep breath, as if her grandmother was asking her to make a great sacrifice. “Okay,” she replied in the end.

Molly nodded gently and grabbed a fistful of flour. She sprinkled it on the table and started to unroll the cling film from around the dough. It was getting a bit wet, she had waited too long to unwrap it. Oh well, now she was going to roll it nice and thin and everything would be just peachy.

“Granny, look! Do you like it?”

Molly turned to look at Lily with just a tinsy bit of apprehension. Oh but she was right at being all nervous! “Lily! I just floured the table, what… what did you do?”

Lily’s bottom lip trembled as she lowered her eyes on the drawing she had made with her fingers into the flour. There was a sun, a little girl with a skirt and another bigger woman. “But it’s us, Granny,” she sobbed, “don’t you like it?”

Molly took a deep breath. “It’s absolutely beautiful, Lily,” she assured her.

Lily’s head snapped up as she looked at her, her grin back on her lips. “Is it the best-est drawing you’ve ever seen?” she asked.

“The best, darling.”

Lily giggled all happily. “Better than Jamie’s drawings?”

“Better,” replied Molly with a smile.

“Better than Al’s drawings?”

“Better.”

“Better than Hugo’s?”

“Better.”

“Better than—”

“The best, Lily,” she cut her off, “but we need to even out the flour once again if we don’t want the pastry to stick to the table. And then if it does we’ll have to scrape it out, but then it’s going to get all broken up and then the mince pies are going to break in the oven. And we don’t want that, do we? Otherwise Father Christmas will be very angry.”

She looked all worried. “Like Uncle Percy when he we ask him where his hair is going?” she whispered.

“Just like that.”

Lily lowered her eyes on the drawing again. “But it’s my best-est drawing, Granny…”

Molly’s heart melted a little at the dejected expression that painted over her granddaughter’s face. “Why don’t we do this, Lily? We even it out now, and when we finish we sprinkle more flour and then Grandpa Arthur can take a picture of it and we’ll keep it forever.”

She seemed to think about it as intensely as only a child could think about a drawing made with flour on the kitchen table. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “Then the next one will be even best-est than this one!”

“I’m sure it’ll be,” she reassured her as she evened out the flour and finally started to roll some of the pastry on top of it. There was too much for just one go, she would have to roll for most of the afternoon. And enchant the roll to do some work by itself when she got too tired for it. She had to remember that she was not a young witch anymore, after all.

“Granny, what do I do?” Lily’s voice was almost back to normal, only a bit slurred towards the last syllable of her sentences now.

“You talk to me, darling,” she replied gently.

“But I want to do something!” she protested.

Molly smiled at her and nodded as she floured the roll and started to work the pastry into a thin layer. “How about, when I’m done here, you cut the pastry with the cutter, dear?”

“But Mummy said that I can’t touch the knives, Granny.”

“It’s not a knife, dear,” replied Molly, working hard to roll the pastry as thin as she could. “It’s a pastry cutter, it’s like when we cut Uncle George’s Charmed Clay and we make shapes.”

Lily’s eyes shone with anticipation. “And then we make some stars and some hearts and some teddy bears and some fishes and some—”

“No, no,” replied Molly, “just circles for now, Lily, we need to make them in the shape of pies, remember? Have you ever seen a mince pie in the shape of a teddy bear?”

She shook her head, a bit disconsolately. “No, but it would be nice, wouldn’t it, Granny? Then I would eat all the teddy bear pies, and I would give Mummy and Daddy the heart pies and then… then I would make some fish pies for Al and Jamie because they smell like fishes sometimes.”

“Lily, that’s not a nice thing to say about your brothers,” scolded Molly.

“But they do, Granny! Even Kreacher says so.” She nodded seriously as if Kreacher was an expert in smelly children.

“Well, you don’t listen to that old, grumpy elf too much, Lily,” she told her gently. “Here.” She raised the pastry and delicately placed it in front of Lily. “Now, you use this cutter here and you cut out circles, okay? Some nice and smooth circles for our pies, dear.” She took the pastry cutter and pushed it into the pastry to show her.

“No, Granny, I’ll do it!” protested Lily.

“Yes, but let me show you, Lily,” said Molly patiently, raising the cutter. “See? And then you put them here.” She pushed the pastry free from the cutter and it fell on a corner of the table. “Okay?”

“Yes, yes,” she assured her, taking the cutter from her hands. She pushed it into the pastry and turned it around a little, just like Molly had done to show her.

She beamed at her granddaughter. “That’s perfect, dear, perfect! You do that until there’s no more pastry and then I’ll give you another layer, okay, dear?”

She nodded, but didn’t even look up at her grandmother, too focused on cutting the pastry right and then moving it to the other end of the table.

“Marvellous,” said Molly contentedly. She grabbed some more dough and started rolling it out once more. Good thing they had such a big table in their kitchen! It was all covered in flour and pastry and trays and bowls and… goodness! Thank Merlin for Cleaning Charms!

She looked at Lily and smiled at how hard she was working. She was all focused on the task in front of her, she was still covered in flour from head to toe and her face was all dirty with mincemeat, but she looked like her tipsiness had disappeared now and she was working steadily on the layer of pastry.

“You are so good at this, Lily, so good, my dear little…” Her words trailed away as she stared at the pile of circles that her granddaughter had cut. “Lily! No, darling, no!” She took the pile into her hands, trying to divide the little discs, but they were all already stuck together.

She sighed and looked at her granddaughter, who was looking back at her without understanding. “But Granny, you said to put them there, where you put yours.”

Molly nodded. “I did, didn’t I?” she sighed. “I meant on the table, dear. Not all together one on top of the other. See? Now they’re all stuck together once more and we have to roll them out again.”

Lily pouted. “But you didn’t tell me, Granny.”

“I know, I know, darling. It’s Granny’s fault,” she sighed again, “now you put them on the table, not too close one to the other, okay? We don’t want them to get stuck to each other.”

Lily nodded meekly and luckily the following 36 little circles were spread out nicely on the table.

*

_Drop them in and use a spare blob of pastry to push them down_

_Brush the edges with milk to make a glistening crown_

_Pop a dollop of mincemeat in each case, gently does it though,_

_Only up to just below the edges or when it cooks it will overflow._

*

“Now, dear, you do exactly what Granny does, okay Lily?” She placed a tray in front of her and looked at her granddaughter while Lily was entranced with her granny’s hands. “You take a circle and then you put it into the little hole for the bun—yes, just like that—and then you push it inside without breaking it. Yes, delicately, yes, like that, dear.”

Well, that was something that Lily was good with. Her little fingers where not strong enough to break the pastry and she pushed down with the perfect pressure so that her little raw pies looked almost nicer than Molly’s.

“You are so good, Lily, so good indeed,” she beamed. “Now, all we need to do is to brush a bit of—where’s the milk?”

The glass of milk that she had prepared there – and with which they would have to brush the edges of the pies and then the lids – was empty now. She knew she hadn’t imagined filling it.

“Lily,” she said gently, “what happened to the milk?”

Lily looked at her with brown eyes huge, her wet lips pressed tightly together. “I didn’t spill it, Granny,” she replied softly.

Granny smiled. “No, you didn’t,” she reassured her, “then what happened to it?” It was a rhetorical question, or better a question to try to make her confess since Molly’s five-year-old granddaughter was sporting a white moustache the size of a Billywig under her nose.

“I don’t know.” She swallowed and tried to smile, but Molly could feel the guilt seeping out of her voice.

“It disappeared? Is that what happened?”

Lily nodded eagerly. “Yes, Granny,” she replied, “I wanted to tell you. It disappeared completely. Like when Uncle Bill makes the greens disappear from his plate.”

“He does what?” thundered Molly, forgetting the milk altogether.

Lily nodded again. “Oh yes, all the greens, and if I give him a kiss on the cheek he makes mine disappear too,” she giggled, “but we can’t tell Mummy, because he said that she’s going to Bat-Bogey Hex him if she knew.” She grinned mischievously for a moment before adding, “Your bogeys become bats, Granny, and they fly out of your nose! Uncle Ron always says bad words when Mummy uses it on him.” She snickered at that. “And then Auntie Hermione always scolds him like a little baby.”

“Your Mummy has more Bludgers than she knows what to do with,” she replied evenly. She waved her wand and Summoned more milk from the fridge. “Here,” she said, “let’s try not to make this one disappear too.”

Lily nodded solemnly. “Yes, Granny, I’ll watch it.”

“Good,” she grinned. “Now, Lily, you put your finger—your clean finger—in and then you brush it all over the edge of the pie. Like this.” She demonstrated with one pie, until the crown was all glistening with milk. “Okay, dear?”

“Okay, Granny!” She dunked her finger into the milk and then brushed it over the edge of the pie.

“Very good, darling,” she beamed. Molly set to work as well, she had in fact two trays to complete before Lily finished her own. But this time she didn’t lose sight of her granddaughter, for she had done enough mess while Molly wasn’t looking.

And surely enough, there she was, dunking her little fingers into the milk, brushing it over the edge of the pie and then licking them clean before dunking them again into the milk.

“Lily, no.” Molly grabbed her hand before Lily could brush another pie. “Darling, you can’t lick your fingers every time you dunk them into the milk.”

“I don’t, Granny,” she replied seriously, “I lick them after I brush the pie.” She looked at her grandmother as if she thought that that was alright. “Because the milk goes everywhere and Mummy said that I can’t spill the milk.”

“And Granny says that you can’t lick your fingers,” she told her, “it’s not nice, is it, Lily? We wouldn’t like to eat pies that other people have licked.”

She shook her head dejectedly. “But maybe we can lick Jamie’s pies, Granny,” she suggested with a mischievous smile, “because he always licks my Jelly Slugs when I’m not looking. And then they are all wet and sticky and I don’t like them as much.”

“How do you know that he’s licking them, Lily, if you’re not looking?”

“Al tells me,” she replied matter-of-factly, “and then he has to eat them at my place.”

Molly took a deep breath, thinking that maybe she should give the licked mince pies to Albus, rather than James, because he sounded like quite the little troublemaker, telling lies and then eating Lily’s sweets. Or maybe he was working with James, and they were sharing the jellies. Grandma Molly would have to investigate on the case of the sweets.

“Alright,” she finally said, drawing out her wand and Scouring her granddaughter’s hands. “It’s okay if you spill it a little bit, Lily, we’re going to clean up after we finish, but for now no licking, okay?”

She nodded in reply. “Okay, Granny,” she agreed, if a bit disappointed.

Molly smiled at her. “And once we’re done with the milk, Lily, we get to do something real fun, you know?”

She grinned impossibly wide as she looked up at her granny. “What, Granny? What?” she asked all excited. “Do we eat the pies?”

“No, darling, we need to cook them first.”

“Oh… do we make some teddy bear pies?”

“Not today, Lily, no.”

“Oh… do we put some snow into the pies?”

“No— _what_? No, Lily, what… oh, never mind.” She shook her head and added, “We get to put the mincemeat into the pies, dear.”

“Oh… do I taste it, Granny?” Lily gave her a big, gap-toothed smile and made her best puppy-eyes, but this time it got her nowhere.

“I hardly think so, Lily.” She went to retrieve the bowl with the mincemeat that was still navigating into the Firewhiskey, and had to move back as she scrunched up her nose at the sting of the alcohol. “Now, we take a spoon, and we spoon it inside. Up to here, okay? Not too much or when we cook it, it goes everywhere.”

Lily nodded warily. “It tries to escape the pie,” she told her granny gravely.

Molly giggled at that. “Indeed,” she replied, “and we can’t have that.” She took a spoon and gave one to Lily. “Here, now, not too much and don’t eat it, Lily. Just spoon it delicately into the pies and it’s all done.”

“Okay, Granny.” She stood on the chair and grabbed the edge of the bowl, perching herself on it to try to reach the mincemeat inside with the spoon. But the bowl was too far from her, and too tall, and too heavy, and instead of asking her grandmother for help, Lily just tried to pull it towards herself and maybe tilt it a bit, or so it looked when—

“Lily! No!” But it was decidedly too late. The bowl toppled over and Lily slid on the chair while a river of mincemeat and Firewhiskey hit her right on the head.

Molly threw her spoons in the air as she hurried to circle the table. “Lily! Lily! Oh… oh my!” She brought her hands to her mouth and looked as her granddaughter was floating cross-legged a few inches from the ground and licking and eating the mincemeat off her hands and clothes, looking absolutely unaware of the danger she had just escaped.

“Lily! You’re… you’re doing magic!”

She looked up at her granny before bringing another dollop of mincemeat to her mouth and finally looking around herself. When she noticed that she was floating she looked all excited at her grandmother. “Ah, I am, Granny!” she exclaimed all happily. Then she was serious, almost worried, all of a sudden. “Oh, we can’t tell Mummy, Granny! She says that we can’t do magic until we go to Hogwarts.” She sighed rather dramatically for a five-year-old. “But that’s like a hundred years.”

“Six, Lily,” replied Molly, still feeling her heart thumping in her chest as she stared at her granddaughter while she floated on the floor and ate some more alcoholic mincemeat off her clothes. Molly took out her wand and waved it in front of Lily.

The little girl almost didn’t notice as she was deposited back onto the chair, still too busy eating.

“Lily, what did I tell you about the mincemeat?”

She looked up at her grandmother, eyes wide and mouth full. “I’m not tasting it, Granny,” she assured her, “I’m cleaning me.”

Well, not that they could have used it in the mince pies anyway. Molly sighed and waved her wand once more. The bowl straightened at once – luckily most of the mincemeat was still inside, while all the Firewhiskey was what had been spilled – and the trays filled with mincemeat up to just below the edges.

*

_Cut 12 smaller discs for lids and place them on each pie_

_Brush with more milk for colour richer than those you can buy._

_If you want to add a design with a fork or knife_

_Now’s the time to do it, or just bung ‘em in the oven and get on with life._

*

Lily didn’t seem to notice as Molly used magic to cut the lids and brush the milk on top of the little pies. She just sat there, very focused on eating all the mincemeat she had on her clothes, in her pockets or in her hair. She brought two pieces of fruit to her mouth and took out some kind of hair or thread from over her tongue. But she didn’t seem too disgusted and kept stuffing her plump lips with the mincemeat.

It was only when she was reasonably clean that she gazed satisfied at her grandmother, before opening her mouth wide and looking rather outraged. “Granny!” she screeched, “but you did it without me!”

Molly took a deep breath. “I’ve just covered the pies, Lily, we still need to decorate them before we can cook them.”

Lily crossed her arms on her chest and pouted. “But you promised we’d do everything together! You said I was your little helper!” she slurred, once again rather tipsy. Oh! If Ginny swung by at that very moment Molly would have never heard the end of it!

“And you’ve helped me, dear,” she reassured her, “but we need to get the first batch of pies in the oven or we’ll never finish.”

Lily looked seriously at her, but before she could reply something she closed her eyes and her head fell backwards. She let out a soft snore and then her breathing settled as she slipped into a calm and peaceful slumber.

Molly chuckled softly as she looked at her little helper sleeping. Then she returned her attention to the pies and placed them all one next to the other on the table. She raised her wand and was ready to wave it and decorate the pies with little stars when—

“Granny! Don’t do it without me!”

She almost dropped her wand as she startled at Lily’s voice. “Oh Merlin,” she said, bringing a hand to her heart. Lily was kneeling on the chair now, hands on the table and shiny eyes wide as she stared at her grandmother. “Lily, you scared me,” she told her.

“But you were going to do it without me!” she protested.

“No, I wasn’t,” she lied through her teeth, “I was going to wake you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping, Granny.”

Molly took a deep, calming breath. “Yes, you’re right, Lily, Granny must have gotten all confused,” she replied, trying to keep the peace in her kitchen. “Well, we better get going with the decorations, darling, because otherwise when Father Christmas gets here tonight he’s going to be all upset that we don’t have the pies ready for him.”

That seemed to do the trick. Lily nodded eagerly and straightened her back to reach the tray with the pies that was lying on the table in front of her. Then her face fell as she seemed to remember something. “But I don’t have my crayons, Granny!” she exclaimed absolutely crestfallen.

Molly chuckled. “We don’t use crayons to decorate them, Lily dear,” she replied, “crayons would melt in the oven. We use a fork or a knife to—”

“Mummy said that I can’t use a knife, Granny.”

“You use a fork, dear,” she said, “and Granny will use a knife.” She handed her a little dessert fork and smiled as Lily prepared to decorate the pie. “You don’t push it with too much force, dear,” she told her, “just enough to make the little holes that will stay even after we cook them, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied eagerly. She raised the fork over the pie and stared at it for a good fistful of minutes before looking back at her grandmother.

“Yes, darling?”

“What do I draw, Granny?” she asked her thoughtfully.

Molly smiled at her. “Well dear, we usually draw stars on mince pies, don’t we?”

She nodded and looked down at her pies, before raising her eyes again and looking seriously at Granny. “But I don’t want to draw stars,” she pointed out.

“But stars are pretty, Lily,” she replied as she started to draw little stars on top of her mince pies, “and they are traditional. Have you ever seen a mince pie without a star?”

“Yes, Granny, the ones that Auntie Hermione buys from the Muggles have no stars.”

Molly huffed slightly. “And they don’t taste the same either, do they?”

She shook her head. “But I want to draw something else, Granny,” she protested, “stars are boring. I want to draw a surprise.”

Molly’s eyebrows knitted together as Lily’s lips spread into a grin. “Okay,” she reluctantly agreed. She stretched her neck to see what her granddaughter was doing to her poor pies, but Lily caught her.

“Don’t look, Granny!” she giggled as she covered the pies with her arms and set herself to dot the lids.

Molly took a deep breath and returned her attention to her trays to continue to cut stars through her own pies. Every time Lily giggled or whined, Molly raised her eyes to look at her a bit anxiously. “Is everything alright?” she asked her. And every time that Lily replied with a “How many legs has an Acromantula, Granny?” or “I can’t make the third Quidditch post fit, Granny!” Molly just felt herself become paler and paler.

“Darling, are you quite done?” she finally asked.

She grinned up at her grandmother. “Yes,” she replied. Then glanced at her pies once more and added, “No, wait!” and went back to dot the pie a bit more.

“Lily…”

“I’m done, Granny.” She gave her another gap-toothed smile. “No, wait.”

“Darling, we need…”

“I finished… no! Granny, how many tails has a Crup?”

“Two, but Lily we really need to—”

“I finished,” she repeated. “Don’t look, Granny! It’s a surprise!”

Molly nodded and tried to smile as best as she could. She just hoped that the lid hadn’t been completely destroyed under Lily’s intensive dotting. She didn’t look at them as she waved her wand and finally sent all three trays into the oven.

*

_Cook them for twenty five minutes, give or take_

_Depending on your cooker it may be twenty or thirty for the perfect bake._

_When they are light golden brown they’ll be done to a gem._

_Let them cool then sieve a little icing sugar over them._

*

“Are they ready?”

Molly looked at Lily. “No darling, we just put them into the oven.”

“Oh.” She nodded and went to look into the oven. “It’s warm. Are they ready, Granny?”

“No, Lily, it takes twenty to thirty minutes.”

She nodded again. “Are they ready now, Granny?”

“Lily, no. Why don’t we get started on the second batch while we wait? We still have nine to—”

“Hello? Is anybody here?”

Molly froze while her five-year-old granddaughter, covered in flour, and mincemeat, and stinking of alcohol turned to look at the door of the kitchen. “Mummy!” she exclaimed, running towards Ginny.

“Hey, I was just—oh, my…”

Molly swallowed and brushed some flour from her curls before putting on a smile and turning to face her daughter. “Ginny dear,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

Ginny’s eyes travelled for the kitchen. From the table to the floor to the shelves to the counter and when they finally settled on Lily, who was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, her jaw dropped. “What happened here?” she asked in shock.

“Mummy, Mummy, I made Quidditch mince pies for you,” exclaimed Lily, grinning at her.

Ginny gave her a hint of a smile, then she looked at Molly, who was starting to feel her face turning very hot. Before she could open her mouth to tell her something, though, she wrinkled her nose and looked around herself. “This… what… Merlin! Who’s been drinking?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying, Ginny.” She swallowed as her daughter bent over a little to smell her own daughter.

“Mum!” she thundered when she finally noticed that it was her daughter who stank of Firewhiskey. “Why is my five-year-old daughter smelling of Firewhiskey? And why is she covered in mincemeat and flour?”

“We’ve been cooking, Ginny,” she replied haughtily, “you probably don’t remember but it’s quite a messy process.”

“Messy?” she exclaimed. “Messy? Messy is when George and Ron make something explode in the shop, Mum. This is not messy, this looks like Hogwarts after the Battle.”

“Please.” She waved a hand in front of Ginny, but she had to admit that her daughter was right. It did look a bit like the Great Hall after the Battle. “It’s always like this when I bake,” she lied.

Ginny arched an eyebrow in disbelief before turning her attention to her daughter. She knelt in front of her and surveyed the disaster. “Did you eat the mincemeat?” she asked sternly.

Lily looked at her innocently. “Oh no, Mummy,” she replied, “I tasted it.” She grinned and added, “It needs more Firewhiskey.”

“Does it?” asked Ginny.

“No, it doesn’t,” mumbled Molly.

“Yes,” Lily replied seriously.

“And how many mince pies have you baked since you started?”

“These many.” She raised all her fingers in front of her mother.

“Ten?” she asked in disbelief. “It’s almost five o’clock already!”

“Thirty-six,” coughed Molly. But if it was five it was already extremely late, they would never finish before Father Christmas arrived!

Ginny looked up at her mother. “And how many were you planning to make?” she asked.

“365,” admitted Molly. “But you don’t worry, Ginny, we’ll manage perfectly fine like I always—what are you doing?”

Ginny cocked an eyebrow as she unfastened her coat and slipped the woollen hat from her head. “What does it look like?” she asked evenly. “I’m going to help you.”

“Yes! Mummy is going to help us, Granny!”

Molly tried to contain her grin, but she just didn’t seem able to. “Are you sure? I thought you had  _that_  thing to do…”

“I already finished  _that_  thing, Mum,” she told her, wiggling her eyebrows to let her know that all the presents were wrapped and hidden somewhere at Grimmauld Place. “And it looks like you’ll never finish here before Father Christmas arrives. Don’t you know that mince pies are his favourites?”

Lily beamed at her mother. “Yes!”

Ginny Summoned an apron from the pantry and wore it. “Well, we better get down to—is something burning?”

Yes, there was something burning. And yes it was the mince pies.

But it didn’t really matter, because Ginny was already taking them out of the oven and telling Lily just how pretty they were despite the fact that they were all a dark brown colour, and Lily was beaming and she was asking her if she could see the Crup and the Quaffle and Daddy, and of course Ginny could see them all.

“Very well, Lily,” she said, “now we put them on the rack to cool and while Granny and I get started on the second batch, you put the sugar on top, okay? Not too much, we don’t want to make them even sweeter than what they are.”

Lily nodded eagerly as her mother placed the mince pies in front of her. “Only on top, Mummy?”

“Only on top, Lily.” She looked at Molly and smiled. “Shall we get going, Mum? I would hate for Father Christmas to think that we don’t know how to welcome him anymore.”

Molly beamed at her daughter, and then at her granddaughter. “I would hate that too,” she admitted.

And they baked the rest of the afternoon away – and part of the evening too. And even though the kitchen looked way worse than Hogwarts after the Battle, at the end of the day they had the exact number of mince pies to make everyone happy.

Especially Charlie, who couldn’t praise enough the spiked mincemeat.

And Lily who was gushing every time someone told her what a pretty batch of mince pies she had made.

And Molly who had spent the best Christmas Eve since she could remember.

FIN


End file.
